


It Takes a Village

by Goldfinch142



Series: the Village AU [1]
Category: Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Kid Henry, Selectively Mute Henry Stickmin, Toppat Clan Adopted Henry Stickmin, generally pretty fluffy, toppat clan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldfinch142/pseuds/Goldfinch142
Summary: The Toppat Clan has many methods of bringing in new members. One of these methods is to adopt a child and communally raise them as a loyal Clan member.As newly-appointed leader and right hand of the Toppats, it’s Reginald Copperbottom and Right Hand Man’s responsibility to peruse some orphanages now and then to find some promising young candidates to become future Toppats. On one of these visits, they find a child that fits the bill: one six-year-old Henry Stickmin.
Series: the Village AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075847
Comments: 25
Kudos: 298





	It Takes a Village

“Why do we ‘ave to do this, anyway?” Right Hand Man grumbled, clunking through the grass toward the front doors of the Red Mesa Orphanage.

Reginald Copperbottom, leader of the Toppat Clan, rolled his eyes. “Oh come now Right, you know why. We need some children to provide a stable, loyal core to the future of the Clan.”

“Lot’sa kids are already born into the Clan every year!”

“A few, yes, but you know as well as I that there are relatively few families where _both_ parents are Toppats and raise their children as such. We do get a lot of adult recruits, but we still need to supplement. In any case, this is still an official duty of the leader and right hand, so we’re doing it, and that’s final.”

Right Hand Man heaved out a sigh that could power a windmill. “At least it says we only ‘ave to look through a few orphanages a year.”

“Indeed.” He and Right Hand Man had only been appointed a couple weeks prior, and he was determined to prove wrong those who thought they were “too young” ( _twenty-one is not too young!)_ and make him and Right the best leader and right hand the Toppat Clan ever had. If that meant traipsing through a bunch of orphanages to find recruits, then so be it. At least this was their last one for a while. Besides, while suitable orphans weren’t _often_ found, it was still a dozen or so every year, spread throughout the divisions—enough lifelong loyalty to be worth it, Reginald thought, nodding to himself.

The pair finally reached the large double doors and pushed their way into a small, brightly lit lobby. Uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs lined the walls on either side. A large stuffy portrait of the orphanage’s founder looked down her crooked nose at him from the far wall. A cutesy banner covered in hearts and smiling stick figure children was hanging over the tidy reception desk. _“Welcome to Red Mesa Orphanage! Where families are made!”_ it read. In Comic Sans, of course. Reginald snickered at Right Hand Man’s subtle gag as they made their way to the desk.

The receptionist, a bored thirty-something woman with blonde hair in a messy ponytail, blandly stared at him through horn-rimmed glasses. “Can I help you?” she droned.

Reginald cleared his throat. “Yes. I and my partner here,” he said, gesturing to Right Hand Man, “just got married, and we’re looking for a child to adopt.”

They weren’t actually married—or even in a relationship—but they had quickly learned that pretending to be a married couple made the orphanages a lot more likely to let them peruse the children and not ask too many questions. (They had also made the mistake of wearing their hats to the first orphanage they visited. Turns out government facilities like orphanages are highly suspicious of all people wearing a top hat. Their request to meet the children was met with…poor reception, to say the least.)

“Please provide your marriage certificate, proof of stable income, federal background check, and three forms of identification.”

They handed over the forged documents that Mac Dandy, their new forgery expert, had prepared for them.

The receptionist scanned the documents with the same half-lidded expression. She glanced up at them, eyes flicking between himself and Right. “You’re both thirty-five?” she asked skeptically, eyeing the pair’s half-grown mustaches and decidedly young faces.

“Yeah,” Right grunted.

A short pause. “M’kay.” She handed back their papers and stood up. “Have a seat, Mr. and Mr. Smith. I’ll be back in a moment.” She turned and went through the side door to their left, leaving the two Toppats alone.

“I really ‘ope this won’t be for nothin’, Reg,” Right sighed, dropping into a plastic chair and pulling a face.

“No need to make faces, Right. Orphan duty isn’t _that_ bad.”

“It’s not that. It’s just that this chair is really uncomfortable.”

Reginald smirked. He knew it.

Primly seating himself next to Right (those chairs really _were_ uncomfortable) and crossing his legs, he waited. As the silence dragged on, he found himself looking around aimlessly at the tacky wall decorations and pink floral wallpaper. Next to him, Right was slouching against the back of the chair and drumming his fingers on the armrest.

“This wallpaper is ‘ideous,” Right muttered.

Reginald agreed, but before he could say so the door opened and the receptionist walked back in, accompanied by a young woman with a brunette bob and a creepily wide grin with teeth that could blind someone.

“Hiya!” the young woman chirped at them as the receptionist returned to her desk. “I’m Pearl, the lead caretaker here at Red Mesa Orphanage! I’m so, so _glad_ you’ve come to adopt today!”

Reginald had to resist the urge to wince; ‘Pearl’s’ screechy, high-pitched voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Judging by Right’s actual wince, his right hand felt the same.

“If you’ll just follow me into the recreation room, we’ve rounded up all the children there so you can meet them!” She turned on her high heel and _click-click_ ed her way back through the side door.

He shared a glance with Right before they slowly followed, crossing a short hallway into a large, spacious room full of the loud chatter of children. The walls, painted a pale yellow, were covered in crayon drawings of skill on a scale of decent to scribbles. Several toy chests were scattered across the room, with stuffed animals and blocks and such spilling out and covering the floor. There were a few tables and chairs in the corner, covered in half-eaten snacks. And then, of course, there were the children, about thirty or so, ranging from toddlers to preteens, all running around or engaged in various activities as a few more caretakers watched. They all stopped at the sound of their muffled footsteps and silently stared at the trio as they moved across the shaggy carpet to the center of the room.

Pearl clapped her hands a few times to call attention, though she didn’t really need to. “Listen up, children! This is Mr. and Mr. Smith, and they’re looking to adopt one of you today! Just keep doing what you were doing, and they’ll go around and talk to each of you individually!”

The chatter slowly returned to full volume as the children turned back to their activities. Pearl, still wearing that too-wide smile, gestured for them to start greeting the children.

So they did. Starting from the bottom left corner and working their way clockwise, the two men began their interviews, coming up to each child and asking them some questions about their past behavior, hobbies, and such, carefully examining each one’s mannerisms for the right attitude, opinions, and personality needed for orphan recruits.

Unfortunately, they reached the end of their circle without finding a single suitable candidate. All of them were either too shy, too wimpy, too squeamish, too weak-willed, or too unmotivated to ever be truly successful Toppats. The Toppat Clan prided itself in being very selective of who they recruit; they couldn’t take in anyone who couldn’t deal with the realities of Toppat life.

“I knew this was a waste of time,” Right groaned quietly in his ear.

Reginald sighed in disappointment. “Well, this orphanage is quite small. We knew the chances of finding someone weren’t as good as the larger ones we’ve already recruited from this year.”

Just as they turned to tell Pearl they were leaving, however, there was a crash and shouting from down another hall leading out of the room. Reginald and Right Hand Man stared warily at the hall’s empty entryway as the shouting and the sound of a motor grew louder. The Toppat leader started at Pearl’s angry growl reminiscent of a saber-tooth tiger—a sound he honestly would have never guessed she could make.

And suddenly the entryway wasn’t so empty anymore, because he and Right let out shouts of surprise as they dove out of the way of a young boy on a pale blue motorized scooter who blasted into the room with a savage grin and a wallet held between his teeth. Unfortunately for the boy, the scooter wheel hit a wooden block and vaulted him over the handlebars with a startled yelp. The boy skidded across the carpet, finally coming to a stop in a pile of stuffed animals as the scooter flew across the room (with some impressive air, Reginald had to admit) and smashed into one of the snack tables, causing the children sitting there to shriek and fall over each other trying to scramble away. A couple caretakers who were chasing the boy finally made it into the room but got swept up in the commotion.

As the room descended into chaos, with caretakers and children alike running around like headless chickens and shouting, the boy merely got up and brushed himself off. Impressively, the wallet was still in his teeth, though the boy quickly shoved it in his pocket.

“HENRY!”

Pearl’s furious bark shocked the room into a still silence. The woman in question stomped up to the boy, apparently named Henry, seething and spitting fire. Henry, to his credit, simply stood his ground and glared up at her.

“I AM _BEYOND_ SICK OF YOUR BEHAVIOR, HENRY! _AGAIN_ AND _AGAIN_ I TELL YOU THAT STEALING AND VIOLENCE IS WRONG, BUT DO YOU LISTEN? _NO!_ I HAVE HALF A MIND TO THROW YOU BACK IN THE STREET!”

The room was dead silent but for Pearl’s manic heaving. After a few moments she finally managed to compose herself and turned back to Reginald and Right Hand Man. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Mr. and Mr. Smith,” she said calmly. “Henry is a…problem child. He’s supposed to be in time-out right now. I’ll see to it that he doesn’t escape again. Especially since there were _guards watching him_.” The last sentence was accompanied with a sharp look towards the two caretakers that had been chasing Henry. The caretakers shuffled their feet and mumbled incoherently, staring at their shoes.

Pearl rubbed the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Henry, go back to time-out.”

Reginald and Right Hand Man shared a knowing look. _Oh_ , _yes_ , Reginald thought. _He will do_.

“Now ‘old on just a minute,” Right said, stepping up to Henry, followed closely by Reginald.

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to the two criminals.

“Me and my ’usband are child be’avioralists, and we think that we can ‘elp little ‘Enry to…control his be’avior and grow into a better person.”

Pearl blinked in realization. “Oh, that’s right!” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “Your documents said you work as child behavior specialists at a highly accredited institution!” She gave Henry the side eye, eyes flashing in irritation when he stuck his tongue out at her. “You really think you can handle him?”

“I know we can!” Reginald announced confidently. “We’ve successfully reformed many a mischievous youngster in our years at Bridgewood Child Behavioralists.”

Pearl still looked hesitant, but conceded. “Well, if you’re sure…”

Reginald and Right Hand Man nodded in unison.

“Well…alright then. I’ll have Sandra get you copies of the adoption paperwork. All faculty, back to work. Children, you can keep playing. Mr. and Mr. Smith, Henry, come with me.” When Henry planted his feet and refused to move, Pearl rolled her eyes and dragged him out by the hand, followed by Reginald and Right Hand Man.

Once back in the lobby, Pearl turned to Henry and held out her hand. “Give me the wallet.”

Henry shrugged and shook his head.

Pearl’s eyes narrowed. “Turn out your pockets.”

Henry did so, pulling both pockets inside out and showing that nothing was there, shrugging again.

Reginald blinked in surprise. He hadn’t seen the boy move it…

“Huh. You must have dropped it in the recreation room.” She sighed. “We’ll find it later. Let’s just deal with the paperwork now.”

After talking to Sandra the receptionist again, Reginald and Right Hand Man were once again seated in the uncomfortable plastic chairs and filling out a small stack of forms (Henry’s last name was _Stickmin_ , apparently) while Pearl and another caretaker were getting Henry’s belongings and bringing them down to the lobby.

“Usually we have a bit more of a process to go through, but since you’re already accredited child care professionals, I’ve sped things up a bit so you can leave with Henry today,” Pearl informed them during one of her trips down from the dormitories. “…Also, I really just want him out of here,” she admitted in a quieter tone, glancing at Henry sitting on the other side of the lobby to make sure he couldn’t hear. “He’s made my life a living hell in the two years he’s been here. I hope you know what you’re getting yourselves into.”

“Not to worry, we’ve had some extreme cases before and made it through,” Reginald assured her.

A while later all the forms were filled out and Henry’s belongings, including the now-dented scooter, were packed in the trunk of the stolen car Reginald and Right Hand Man had driven there. After buckling up Henry and getting in themselves, Pearl waved the three off as they drove away.

After a few minutes of silence, Reginald addressed Henry directly. “So, Henry,” he said, turning and looking at the boy in the backseat. “I take it you have something of a history of theft?”

Henry just eyed him warily before nodding.

“Wonderful! It’s always important to start early and have a good foundation.”

The small boy stared at him in disbelief.

“Allow us to introduce ourselves,” Reginald said, redonning his two top hats with a flair and placing Right’s hat back on his head. “I’m Reginald Copperbottom, leader of the Toppat Clan, and this is my Right Hand Man.”

“Hey, kid,” Right said from the driver’s seat, not taking his eyes off the road.

Reginald continued. “The Toppat Clan is a group of thieves. We live in luxurious splendor, away from all the meddling authorities of the world.”

Henry slowly blinked with a blank expression.

“We live well and no one can tell us what to do.”

The boy grinned toothily and gave him a thumbs-up.

Reginald smiled. He already liked the boy. “How old are you, Henry?”

Henry held up six fingers.

“Six? Well then, you’ll have plenty of time to practice your skills in stealing and trickery now, so you can be truly great later. You’ll be an amazing thief one day, I can tell.”

Henry beamed at him and puffed out his chest.

“By the way, kid,” Right said, taking a quick glance back at Henry, “where’d you put that wallet? I know you didn’t drop it.”

Henry snickered deviously and lifted his shirt just enough to reveal a large rubber band around his midsection, holding the wallet fast to his body.

“You moved it there during all the fuss of the scooter crashing,” Reginald realized, “knowing that Pearl would make you turn out your pockets! Oh, excellent work, Henry! I didn’t even see you put the wallet there!”

Even Right was impressed, if his low whistle was any indication.

“Now then, on to business. All the other orphan recruits have been sent to other divisions. The airship division—the one Right Hand Man and I belong to—is fairly small, so we typically only get one or two child recruits at a time. You’ll be our only one for now, Henry. How would you like to live on an airship with us and some other Toppat Clan members?”

Henry nodded fervently, eyes alight with excitement. A moment later he plucked the wallet from the rubber band and opened it to look through the contents. Grinning cheekily, he pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and proudly waved it at Reginald.

Reginald grinned back. “What do you want to do with it, Henry?”

The mini thief tapped his chin with a finger and stared out the window thoughtfully. Suddenly his eyes widened and he gasped. He excitedly pointed out the window at a billboard advertising a candy store in a mall at the next exit.

Reginald nodded in understanding. “Take the next exit, Right. We’ve got some candy to buy.”

“You got it, Reg.”

Following a few more signs, they pulled into the mall parking lot and made their way to the candy store where Henry ran around like a hyperactive squirrel, grabbing armloads of colorful candy and dumping them in the basket. Knowing his Right Hand Man had something of a sweet tooth himself, Reginald subtly swiped a couple chocolate bars for him.

After getting to the register and paying (it was only fourteen dollars’ worth of candy, so Henry pocketed the rest for later), Right suggested that they hit the hat store on their way out. “’Enry needs a top ’at, after all, and there’s no better time to get one than now.”

It took Henry a while to find a hat he liked in his size, but he eventually settled on a simple child-sized dark blue top hat. Reginald promised Henry he’d modify it later and make it more personalized for him. They quietly slipped out of the store, Henry holding the hat to his right side while Right distracted the cashier on their left. After Right rejoined them, they returned to the car and continued the drive to their designated return pod, which was only another fifteen minutes or so. Henry spent the whole time eating candy (though Right made him stop after the sixth pack of Skittles) and admiring his new top hat in the reflection of the window.

When they finally arrived at the pick-up point, they got all of Henry’s things into the return pod and pushed the stolen car into the nearby lake. The trio climbed into the large, wide cylindrical pod, which was half-hidden in some bushes and underbrush, and Reginald keyed in the command for the pod to return to the airship.

Henry yelped in fright as the pod roared to life, rumbling as the fuel engaged and they rose up into the air.

“No need to be frightened, Henry, it’s perfectly safe,” Reginald assured him. Right patted the boy on the shoulder as the pod rose hundreds of feet in the air and zipped towards the coordinates of the airship. Henry took a deep breath and quickly calmed down. He started exploring the pod curiously, even opening the mini-fridge and snagging a juice box.

(“You keep juice boxes in there?” Right Hand Man asked Reginald, raising an eyebrow.

“So what? I like juice.”)

The trip was a short one, and before they knew it the pod had slotted back into the airship, letting them off near the cockpit. A few Toppats met them as they stepped off.

“Welcome back, Chief, Right Hand Man!” greeted Wilhelm Krieghaus, the airship’s tech programmer, in a thick German accent. The large-headed man looked down at Henry. “And I see you found new recruit as well! What is your name, little Toppat?”

“It’s Henry. Henry Stickmin,” Reginald supplied when Henry just stared silently at Krieghaus. “He doesn’t really speak.”

“Ah, ja, ja. Of course.”

Nodding to the rest of the Toppats, the three headed into the glass-walled cockpit, where Reginald announced Henry’s arrival over the PA system and called for a couple available Toppats to move Henry’s things into a spare bedroom.

“So,” Reginald announced, turning to Henry and clapping his hands together, “I think it’s time for a tour of the airship, don’t you, Henry?”

The boy smiled brightly and flashed him a thumbs-up.

* * *

Henry could hardly believe his luck.

When he woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was to get adopted by people he actually liked who agreed with him that stealing was the best, get candy and a cool hat, _and_ get away with that mean guy’s wallet! It was like the next three Christmases were all happening today!

(Christmas was Henry’s favorite holiday, because he got to sneak down to the decorated rec room and steal all the shiny ornaments and pretty lights to put in his own room. The grown-ups would get _so mad_ whenever they caught him. He giggled at the thought.)

And to make it even better, the two guys who adopted him—'Reginald’ and ‘Right’—were showing him around the _coolest_ airship he’d ever seen. (It was also the _only_ airship he’d ever seen, but that wasn’t the point.) He couldn’t stop staring in awe at all the rooms; he never would have thought there would be so many. After leaving the “cockpit”, his new…

_Uncles, I guess?_

His new uncles had taken him into every room they came across, introducing him to every Toppat on the airship as they went. They slowly made their way through the bedrooms, living areas, lounges, the kitchens and cafeteria, the “brig” (which Uncle Reginald told him was just a fancy word for jail), the rooms where the weapons were kept that he couldn’t remember the name of, a bunch of rooms used for random stuff, the library and records room, and the vault. (Uncle Right had to literally drag him out of that last one, but all the stuff in there was just so _pretty_ …)

All in all, a really good day. The only thing that could make it better was a seventh pack of Skittles.

“Well, I think that’s about it for the tour,” Uncle Reginald said, shaking Henry out of his thoughts. They had spent to last hour looping all the way around the airship and ended up back in the cockpit.

Uncle Right looked out the windshield at the sunset, which blazed over him and made his red hair look like fire. “Oi, Reg, looks like it’s nearly dinner.”

Henry looked around and spotted a digital wall clock—it was 6:15.

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Uncle Reginald said in realization, following Henry’s gaze to the clock. “What was on the menu today, Right?”

“Spaghetti and breadsticks.”

Henry changed his mind. The only thing that could make this day better was spaghetti and breadsticks.

* * *

Henry was, unsurprisingly, the center of attention during dinner.

As the Toppats on meal duty were setting out pans of baked spaghetti (some with meat, some without) and baskets of breadsticks at the buffet table, most of the ones who weren’t were oohing and aahing at the kid, who was sitting between him and Reg at one of the long tables and grinning like he thought he was hot stuff.

“Oh, he’s just adorable! Look at his little top hat!” gushed Joan Scone, the airship’s lead financial manager.

Right Hand Man had to admit that it _was_ pretty adorable, not that he would ever say so in front of all his subordinates. He had an image to uphold, after all.

“Really, Joan? It’s not like you’ve never seen any of the Clan’s children before,” teased the head of communications from down the table.

“Well, yes, but it’s been such a long time since we’ve had anyone younger than sixteen on the airship! We get so few children here—”

Joan was cut off by the loud clang of the dinner bell, signaling that tables would start being called to line up at the buffet. Just like at every other meal, the Toppats on meal duty shook around numbered cards in a top hat and pulled them out one at a time.

“Table 3!”

The table next to theirs all got up and headed for one end of the buffet, grabbing a plate and utensils and slowly moving down the line from entrée to side dishes to the dessert station at the other end (it was tiramisu tonight, Right noted with silent delight, the Italian cake being his favorite dessert). When most of Table 3 was through the stations and had sat back down, another card was pulled out and Table 5 was called up.

Right started at the sudden tug on his sleeve. Looking down to his side, he raised an eyebrow at Henry. “What?”

Henry gave him an exaggerated questioning look and pointed at the wall clock above the doorway, then the buffet table.

“When are we goin’ up to get food? Well, eh, whenever our table gets called. It’s random every time. We’re Table 2, so you’re just gonna ‘ave to wait.”

The kid pouted and took a sip of his water. (While everyone else had standard water glasses at their place, Reg had asked the kitchen staff to give Henry a plastic cup with a lid and straw instead.)

Luckily, Table 2 was pulled next a few minutes later, and everyone got up and shuffled over to the buffet. Right had to give Henry several of his sternest looks to make sure their youngest recruit didn’t pile way too much on his plate. After going through the buffet and serving himself a very reasonable amount of tiramisu, Right returned to their table and very deliberately ignored Reg’s look (he already knew the one) directed at his plate.

“Right Hand Man.”

“Yeah?”

“That is not a reasonable amount of tiramisu.”

“Yes it is.”

“It’s taking up over half your plate.”

“It’s not a big plate.”

“It’s a dinner plate.”

“Like I said.”

(They went through that same song and dance every time the kitchen served tiramisu. Reginald always inevitably backed down with an eye roll and a snarky comment about Right Hand Man’s blood sugar levels.)

Reg cleared his throat and changed the subject, though he kept casting dubious glances at the offending cake. “We should register Henry in the system tomorrow so he won’t set off the security camera alarms and so he can get his own keycard.”

Henry curiously looked up from his spaghetti and the doting of Joan and a couple other Toppats at the mention of his name.

Right nodded. “Yeah. Guess ‘e’ll need a guest card for tonight.”

“Ah, I knew I was forgetting something! Here you go, Henry,” Reg said, pulling a guest card out of his suit jacket’s front pocket and handing it over to Henry, who turned it over in his hands, examining it. “Now you can get around the airship by yourself until we can get you one of your own. Wouldn’t do for you to not even be able to leave your room without one of us with you.”

Across from the three, Krieghaus shuddered. “Those doors are a nightmare to behold, little Toppat. Prepare yourself for battle every time you wish to leave a room.”

“Oh, quit bein’ so dramatic, Krieg’aus,” Right groaned in exasperation, rolling his eyes. “You’re the only one ‘ere who has trouble with the doors.”

“They are very finnicky! And sometimes they jam!”

“Even I have trouble with them sometimes, Right,” Reg informed him lightly. “No need to be rude.”

Right just huffed and shoveled more tiramisu in his mouth.

* * *

Early the next morning found Reginald and Right Hand Man briskly walking through the airship’s metal halls toward Henry’s room. The late-October sunrise washed over them as they passed the windows. The night guard was due to be relieved any minute and most of them were yawning and lazily leaning against the walls, though they quickly stood up straight and tried to look alert when they saw the new leader and right hand approaching.

The two nodded to everyone they saw, though they kept a steady pace all the way to their destination. Once at Henry’s door, Reginald tapped it twice with a knuckle and waited. Nothing.

 _Hmm_. He tapped again. Still nothing.

“For god’s sake, Reg, you’ll never get anyone to open the door like that!” Right exclaimed incredulously, pushing Reginald’s hand away as he moved to tap again. “Like this.”

 _BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG_ —

" _Right!_ "

“What? If we’d done it your way we’d be standin’ ‘ere all day.”

Before they could descend into an argument, the door slid open and Henry, in his pajamas and bed-headed, jumped out with a battle cry and a small wooden baseball bat. At the sight of the two men, he instantly relaxed and lowered the bat, staring at them in open confusion.

Reginald coughed into a fist, slightly embarrassed. “My apologies for the rude awakening, Henry. It was _supposed_ to be a much gentler one,” he growled, shooting Right an annoyed glare. His right hand just shrugged.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Reginald picked at his mustache and blew out a resigned sigh.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he asserted, looking back to Henry, “we’ve come to tell you to get ready for breakfast. There’s a few more things we need to discuss about your new life here.”

Henry pointedly squinted at the alarm clock on his nightstand, where a red 7:20 was glowing at them in the room’s semi-darkness.

“Breakfast starts at eight every morning and runs ‘til nine,” Right told Henry gruffly. “Don’t be late or you’ll ‘ave to convince Mr. Thicc to fix somethin’ up for you.”

“He’s the head chef,” Reginald supplied helpfully at Henry’s blank stare.

Half an hour later, Reginald and Right were walking a showered and dressed Henry to the cafeteria. (Well, actually, not really walking; Henry had insisted on riding his scooter, so he was speeding through the halls and laughing maniacally while Reginald and Right Hand Man were running after him and shouting for him to slow down.)

They did manage to make it to the cafeteria without incident—though there was a close call where Henry nearly bowled over one of the day guards—and when their table was called they got their food and sat back down at the same places as the previous night.

“After breakfast we’ll get you registered in the security system and records,” Reginald told Henry, poking at his scrambled eggs. “And after that, I think it’s time to start training you on proper heist technique—what to do and what not to do. It’s best to learn the good habits now and break the bad ones early. We can start you on the gun safety course today and you can start handling one in a year or two—with supervision, of course.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically, violently ripping apart his toast and chewing it dramatically to demonstrate his toughness. Right snorted in amusement from Henry’s other side.

“Oh, and one more thing, Henry,” the Toppat chief said, pulling out a small gold charm in the shape of the letter ‘H’. (Last night after Henry had gone to bed, Reginald had called the engineering and design teams and had it custom-made.) “This is for you.” Plucking Henry’s top hat off his head, Reginald fastened the charm to the hat band and handed it back, chuckling at Henry’s gasp of delight as he admired it and proudly planted it back on his head.

Reginald smiled down at the young boy. “Looks like everything’s settled then. Welcome to the Toppat Clan, Henry.”

Henry smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a couple stories with the premise of Henry being adopted into the Toppat Clan as a child. I liked the idea, so I jumped on the bandwagon and put my own spin on it. I may write some future one-shots that directly follow this story; I have a few ideas floating around.


End file.
